


Synchronized

by braedens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Teacher Derek, Teacher Stiles, Unrequited Love, and everyone sees it but them, basically the pack are all employees at an elemntary school, two idiots acting like they're married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braedens/pseuds/braedens
Summary: Stiles can admit that the world isn’t always in his favor. For fucks sake, he’s a third grade teacher. 95% of his day consists of conversations with children under the age of ten. But at least he spends the other five percent with people he cares about.Derek was already teaching when Stiles started his student-teaching program after graduation. Derek had the honor of mentoring Stiles in his first year at BCE. Forced mentorship turned casual acquaintance ship turned saundering friendship made Stiles realize how much he and Derek have in common.And also how much of a raging crush he has on him, despite Derek showing almost no interest.See? Not always in his favor.Whatever, he’s accepted his residual fate.





	Synchronized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lydiacamille-grace](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lydiacamille-grace).



> for lydiacamille-grace
> 
> ask for fluff, and fluff you shall receive!

“Do you have an extra pack of Crayola markers.”

The resounding sigh Derek gives is an indicator, if any, that he does in fact have an extra pack, he’s just not that inclined to give them up. But, Stiles never really takes no for an answer.

Derek looks up from his desk, his glasses just barely sliding down his nose. He gives Stiles this uninterested look, but it only gives Stiles an invite to saunter in anyway.

“What happened to all of yours?” he asks, watches as Stiles goes straight for his desk, opening the left-side drawer where they both know Derek keeps his extra art supplies.

“Dude, you know how fast these kids go through these things. And Marisol is going through a rebellious phase and refuses to put the caps back on.” Stiles stands up straight, smug grin on his face when he brandishes a new 24 pack from the drawer. “I think she’s out to get me!”  
  
Derek sighs again, and Stiles wonders if he should have a record counter going for how many times Derek replaces words with mutterances.

“You think a nine-year old is really plotting your demise with markers?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Which, yeah. Stiles can’t remember when there was a time he wasn’t teaching 3rd graders. He had went into student teaching almost immediately after graduating college, and he’s had a job at Beacon County Elementary School since then. Quite frankly; he loves it. He adores his kids, and he’s always had a soft spot for enlightening young minds.

And, the fact that he’s been able to talk to Derek Hale everyday since he started working here isn’t so bad either.

“You owe me a new set.” Derek huffs, not even looking up from the worksheets he’s grading.

Stiles can’t help but wink as he makes his way back to the door, hoping to not leave his kids with the teaching assistant for too long next door. “I’ll definitely pay you back, big guy.”

He doesn’t catch the way Derek’s cheeks go rosy at that.

 

* * *

 

“Derek! What did you bring for lunch today?”

Stiles waltz into the teacher’s lounge, lunch bag in tow and slides into the seat right next to Derek’s, the seat he saves him every day at lunch. Scott joins them at their table, a fresh cup of coffee and a take-out container in his hands.

Derek blinks. “Chicken alfredo.”

Stiles pound a fist in the air, opening his lunch bag. “Chicken caprese salad. Switch?”

Without hesitation, Derek slides his tupperware towards Stiles, who gladfully gives up his salad to Derek.

“God bless carbs,” he mumbles, taking a bite of the pasta. “I stayed at my dad’s last night and made his lunch, I didn’t want the rest to go to waste.”

“If you don’t like salad, why not just buy a lunch?” Scott asks.

“Not all of us have ‘School Principal’ money, okay, Scott!” He points his fork at his best friend. “Besides, why bother when I can trade and get Derek’s amazing home cooking? I feel like I’m winning in this situation.”

“I _do_ have amazing cooking skills.” Derek adds.

Lydia clicks her tounge from the opposite table where she’s going over some sort of plan with Allison. “Not that amazing, Hale.”

Derek’s famous scowl comes out, and bows his head, and Stiles sort of feels his heart tear a bit. Derek doesn’t usually get personally offended by things, but cooking seems to be the one thing he’ll pride himself on. Or, at least since Stiles has known him.

He puts a hand on his friend’s back, giving him a reassuring rub before leaning in. “Don’t listen to Lydia. She wouldn’t know a good tortellini if it stuffed its way into her throat.” He stands up a little straighter. “I’ll always be a customer at Cafe de Hale.” and he seals the comment by taking another bite of the pasta.

He can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat when Derek gives him a small smile, the one that always feels intimate and personal, and he smiles back.

Stiles doesn’t catch the smirk Scott gives him, nope.

* * *

 

Stiles can admit that the world isn’t always in his favor. For fucks sake, he’s a _third grade teacher_. 95% of his day consists of conversations with children under the age of ten. But at least he spends the other five percent with people he cares about.

Scott’s the principal of Beacon County Elementary, which is no shock to their friend group. Even though they all started working at the same time, Scott has somehow managed to savior his way to the top. Not that anyone is complaining. Scott’s a great leader.

Allison Argent is the P.E. teacher and coaches most female sports at the school. She’s a vixen with the death grip, and Stiles isn’t entirely convinced she isn’t part celestial being.

Boyd is the Assistant Principal. Quiet, but great at disciplining. Jury’s out on if it’s because the students are just straight terrified of him. But he has a soft spot for Erica Reyes, the school nurse.

Lydia Martin is head of the gifted program, and is actually the most terrifying person Stiles has ever met. She’s also his best friend.

Well, after Derek.

Derek was already teaching when Stiles started his student-teaching program after graduation. Derek had the honor of mentoring Stiles in his first year at BCE. Forced mentorship turned casual acquaintance ship turned saundering friendship made Stiles realize how much he and Derek have in common.

And also how much of a raging crush he has on him, despite Derek showing almost no interest.

See? Not always in his favor.

Whatever, he’s accepted his residual fate.

* * *

 

It’s a Friday when they’re all packing up to go home, everyone chatting in the teacher’s lounge after releasing students on their plans for Memorial weekend. Allison and Lydia are chatting about their drive tonight to Allison’s dad’s cabin, Scott is on the phone with his mom, confirming his visit this weekend.

“Any good plans this weekend?” Derek asks him, sliding folders into his briefcase next to Stiles, who shakes his head.

“My dad’s on duty all weekend, so I think I’ll just hang out at home, catch up on grading.”  
  
“Grading, on the weekend?” Derek chastises. “And I thought I was the nerd, here.”

Stiles laughs, slings his bag over his shoulder. “Oh, you still are. But I have nothing better to do, so,” he draws out.

Derek shifts his eyes when he moves to follow Stiles out the door, which, weird. He won’t make eye contact with Stiles, and by the way his arm bulges, he’s clenching his briefcase pretty tight.

Not that Stiles is looking at his arms or anything. No.

They push open the doors to the parking lot. “You got any plans, Der?”

Derek looks like he’s thinking about it way harder than he should, and doesn’t say anything until they get to Stiles’ Jeep, which conveniently is parked right next to Derek’s camaro.

Stiles is about to just let bygones and part ways but then Derek word vomits-

“Do you want to come to a Memorial party with me?”

Stiles blinks a couple of times. “A...what?”

“It’s this thing my neighborhood does every year. Like, a block party. There’s food, and live music, and games.” Derek starts, and it feels like he’s talking so fast. “And I got roped into manning the grill, probably because I’m the only guy in a street full of single mothers. And you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but you said you weren-”

“Holy shit, Derek stop talking, I’ll go!” Stiles laughs.

Derek’s mouth hangs open, like he’s surprised Stiles would agree. “Really?”

“Yeah! I love a good block party. Plus, free food _and_ I get to see you work a grill? I’m there, man.”

He ignores the way he can tell the tips of Derek’s ears go pink.

“Uh, great. I’ll text you the details?” Derek smiles, and it’s so bright and pure, it feels like a punch to his gut.

* * *

 

So that is how on Monday, Stiles finds himself in a suburban Californian neighborhood, surrounded by children and families, like straight out of a movie.

And, don’t get him wrong, he’s been to Derek’s place. Late night FIFA and shitty thrillers have been a frequent in their friendship, but he’s never really interacted with his community. Nor does Derek ever really invite to things like this, mostly because he knows _things like this_ aren’t usually Derek’s scene.

Regardless, Stiles came, sporting a red tank top, his khakis, and a baseball cap. He figured the heat would be too unbearable with his flannel.

The long street is filled with booths and tables, a small stage where some people are singing and playing music, and towards the stage, a barbecue station. And just like out a goddamn movie, the smoke surrounding the area clears, and Stiles sees Derek come into view, and apron on, tongs in his hand, and laughing loudly at a mom who is holding out her plate to him.

“Looking good, Der! Dad apron suits you well.”  
  
“Stiles!” Derek says when Stiles sneaks up, almost surprised. “You made it.”

He watches Derek untie the apron and throw it on a table, circles around the booth, and almost instantly another dad-esque man comes up and takes over, like it’s some fucking second nature to these guys with the art of barbecuing.

“Wouldn’t miss it, man. Thanks for inviting me, again. I probably would have just been holed up in my apartment watching period dramas.”

Derek falls in stride next to them as they walk away from the grill, slowed pace as they walk the street, crowded with people and tables. Stiles tries not to overthink how Derek’s arm presses to his as they walk, standing so close, his face inches from Stiles’ when he turns to laugh at something stupid Stiles says.

“Mr. Hale!” a voice squeals, forcing them to stop walking, and see a  little girl with red hair and a freckled face barrel toward Derek. Behind her, a frantic woman with an infant boy at her hip follows along. “Mr. Hale, it’s me, Belen!”

Stiles watches as Derek crouches down to her level, and it really shouldn’t warm Stiles’ heart as much as he does.

“Hi, Belen. What’s my favorite student doing here?”

“I’m here for the party! I’m going to set the world record for most cotton candy eaten ever!”

“Is that so?” Derek muses.

Belen nods her head. “What are you doing here with Mr. Stiles? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

Stiles bends down just a bit. “Hey, now! We don’t spend all our time at school. Sometimes we gotta come out and have fun, too.” and winks at her.

They both stand up straighter, and who Stiles presumes is Belen’s mother, steps up. “Mr. Hale, Mr. Stilinski, sorry to bug you. She spotted you both from down the walkway and just started booking it,” she chuckles, and the little boy on her hip coos.

“It’s not problem. Always nice to see a friendly face.” Derek smiles. Belen is still by his feet, looking up at him with expectant eyes.

“Well,” she sighs, and against Belen’s acceptance, takes her daughter by the hand. “We don’t want to keep you two from being together. It’s a great day to enjoy a date!” and pushes past them, and Stiles is sure his brain short-circuits. He turns to Derek, who is already glancing at him with wide eyes before he turns around.

“Oh, we’re not dating,” Derek blurts out.

“I _wish_ this was a date,” Stiles mumbles at the exact same time.

Belen’s mother stops walking and her eyes flicker between them, and Stiles looks at her because he knows for a fact Derek heard what he said based on how he can feel the heat of his eyes on the side of his face. Nope, he’s just going to keep looking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Belen’s mother says. “I must have gotten caught up in gossip with the other parents. We all just assumed you both were married. Or, at least dating.”

Apparently, their incredulous faces must give some indication that they have no idea what she’s talking about, because she elaborates.  “You both are just, always together. At school events, when we pick up our kids after school. You both just give off that ‘married couple’ vibe.”

As if on cue, the boy on her hip starts to get fussy, coos turned to frustrated cries as he pulls on his mother’s shirt.

“Again, I’m sorry. I have to go, but I’ll see you both around the school!” she says, and leads her kids away, Belen skipping along, waving back at the two of them. Stiles gives her a pathetic wave back.

It’s quiet between them for a minute or two, just standing there as kids and parents walk around them, holding balloon animals or plates of food. And really, if there’s anything Stiles is good at, it isn’t being quiet.

“People think we’re married?” he turns to Derek.

“You wish we were _dating_?” Derek says at the exact same time, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

Stiles did always love their synchrony in their friendship.

He points to picnic benches behind him. “Maybe we should sit?”

Derek follows him to an empty table, and when they sit across from each other, he notices Derek’s shoulders hunched and he’s looking down at his folded hands, and he can’t remember the last time he’s seen Derek this nervous. Hell, he’s not sure he’s ever seen Derek _nervous_.

Stiles can’t help the bounce of his knee, his repeated hand running through his hair, trying to find some distraction from the fact that Derek looked so shocked to hear that Stiles would want to date him, which is only to believe that Stiles was right; his feelings are unrequited.

It’s just, how could he not like Derek? He’s kind and considerate, even when Stiles goes on and on about topics he knows damn well Derek couldn’t give two shits about. He listen and he remembers. (and okay, sure he may remember just so that he can tease Stiles about it later, but he _remembers_ , and that’s rare considering Stiles’ record with other people). And he’s patient-, he’s so patient with his students, always treating them respect that it melts Stiles’ fucking heart everytime he sees Derek talking to a student.

And he’s funny, and smart, and a huge fucking dork and Stiles is in love with him and _he can’t help it_.

“Is it true?” Derek asks, voice low, and eyes still down at the table.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course it’s true, Derek. Have you met you? You’re quite honestly the best person I know, and that’s saying a lot considering my best friend is Scott McCall.” He really hopes that statement never gets back to Scott, though, or he’d never hear the end of it.

Derek chuckles, and finally looks up. It’s quiet for a beat, and his brows furrow.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Stiles can’t help but scoff. “Because we work together at an elementary school,” but he doesn’t even believe himself as he says it. “And, I don’t know, man. I didn’t think you felt the same why, so I just took your friendship rather than ruining it.”

Now it’s Stiles who can’t look Derek in the eye, so he fixates on his fingers resting on the table. “And trust me, not many people can tolerate my spaz of a self. I didn’t want to screw that up.”

Maybe if he was looking up, he’d notice the softness of Derek’s eyes as he heard those words, and the small turn of his lips. And maybe he’d notice Derek lifting his hand and reaching out, before it wrapped around Stiles’ wrist, stilling him.

Stiles’ eyes shoot up because _is Derek Hale really touching him like it’s some incredibly cheesy movie? Is he going to say something incredibly cheesy, like-_

“Stiles. You are not a spaz.”

Yeah, something like that.

He feels a squeeze on his wrist. “I like you, Stiles. A lot. Since you started student-teaching. But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, especially since we spend most of our day surrounded by children and their parents.”

“Are you freaking kidding me, man? I’ve been walking around thinking you were too good for me when your nerd of a self had feelings for me this whole goddamn time?” and Stiles definitely doesn’t care if he raises his voice. He’s allowed to be! He just found out that the guy he’d been pining about for so long, his best friend nonetheless, had reciprocated feelings for him!

Derek slides his hand down until he’s holding Stiles’, and he laughs the way that makes his eyes crinkle, and his smile wide, and it makes Stiles heart melt all over again.

“I can’t believe everyone knew before we did,” Derek laughs.

“I can’t believe no one told us!” Stiles chides.

They finally take a breath and look at each other, and Derek has on a dopey grin that Stiles can’t help but reciprocate. And suddenly Stiles’ is acting on impulse. He’s standing and leaning over the table so fast, that he barely registers Derek’s question.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Derek asks right before Stiles grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him in for a kiss.

Okay, so maybe they aren’t always so synchronized.

But Stiles couldn’t care less, because Derek’s lips are warm, words dying on his lips, and he has one of his hands coming up to cup Stiles’ cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth.  It’s one of those kisses that Stiles wishes he could live in- sweet and meaningful, the kind that makes his insides churn and his heartbeat quicken.

When they pull apart, Stiles doesn’t make a move to sit back down, his face still centimeters from Derek’s face. “You know,” Stiles mumbles, “we’re at a perfect first date setting.” He tilts his head to look at Derek, but also to keep himself from kissing him until the end of time. “Outdoors, silly booth games, public setting in case you need to leave if you change your mind about this.”

He feels Derek brush his thumb over his cheek where it’s still cupped, and he can’t help but lean into it.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek leans in to peck a kiss to Stiles’ lips. He lets his hand drop from Stiles, and before the man can protest, Derek’s lifting himself from the table. “But I’m letting it be known now that you cannot force me to play any block party carnival games in hopes of winning you a prize.” he huffs.

But he outstretches his arm, offering his hand to Stiles. And _hell yeah_ Stiles takes it. He stands from the table, and instead of letting go, he links his fingers with Derek’s.

“That is absolutely the first thing we are doing.”

* * *

 

They spend the day playing booth games and eating potluck food from Derek’s neighborhood, all whilst never letting go of each other. They stay holding hands, Derek’s hand on Stiles back, stealing pecks and kisses whenever they can. And despite his arguments, Derek wins Stiles a small wolf plush that Stiles later puts on his car’s dashboard.

It’s late when they leave the potluck, walking back to Derek’s house at the end of the street, full on food and tired from an exhausting day; physically and emotionally.

“I never knew your neighbors were so friendly,” Stiles says, following Derek into his house. “My apartment complex isn’t nearly this fun.”

“Ms. Neely is nice. She leaves you cookies every holiday.” Derek argues, locking his front door.

“She’s also ninety years old and only talks to her cats. I think I’m her only friend.”

Derek turns from the door and smiles, and pulls Stiles closer by his waist. “Don’t act like you don’t love being her friend.” He feels Derek’s thumbs rub at his sides, and he gives in and brings his hands to hold onto Derek’s arms.

“Sue me, she reminds me of my grandmother and she bakes great fucking cookies. She’s my best friend.”

Derek pouts. “I thought I was your best friend?”

Stiles smirks, and moves in a little closer, until their noses brush against each other.

“Nah. I think I prefer ‘boyfriend’.”

“Yeah?” Derek smiles.

“Oh, 100 percent.”

“So,” Derek starts, his voice softer. “This is actually happening? We’re doing this?”

“Derek Hale, I did not wait three years for us to get our shit together for this not to happen. I’m all in, baby.”

He sees Derek smile in that small, private way, that he can’t recall him ever giving to anyone but him. “I’m all in, too.”

This kiss is slower, more sure. Almost like a promise, and Stiles can feel Derek’s grin on his lips.

Too bad Stiles breaks it by yawning.

“Can we be 'all in' starting first thing in the morning? I think I might pass out.”

Derek laughs, taking Stiles by the hand and leading him to his bedroom.

“Come on, let’s go to bed. We can talk over breakfast.”

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night, a bit tousled from the fact that he’s not in his own bed, but when he feels his arms wrapped around Derek, and his cheek pressed against his shoulder blades, he knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He presses a kiss to Derek’s shoulder and snuggles him a little closer, and relishes on the way Derek pushes back against him, squeezing at his hand even when he’s asleep.

See? Synchronized.


End file.
